The Time We Have Left
by the ticking clock
Summary: Jem's lips twitched into a sad smile, "that's why we have to enjoy the time we have left." Will cares for jem during a particularly bad attack, and reflects on their friendship, and how for years, he has never shed a single tear.


Will could feel the tears burning even before they started to fall.

He couldn't truly remember the last time he had cried, cried when someone else was in the room anyway...after he had come to the institute, he had formed a hard shell around himself that no one ever truly cracked. But now...

his control was slipping, his vision was blurring, his breath hitching in his throat, matching Jem's ragged gasps. He squeezed his eyes shut to block the tears, to stop them from ever falling, because Will Herondale had never cried, truly cried, in all those years that he had been at the institute, and he wasn't going to start now.

Jem's fingers, the flesh burning with fever, searing fire into Will's arm, closed tighter over his wrist as the other boy began convulsing, sharp, horrible sounds that were almost screams ripping from his chest.

The binding rune, the rune that bound him to his parabati, began to burn.

And Will started to panic. Was Jem truly going to die this time? was this it? He desperately pinned Jem's shoulders to the floor, holding his spasaming friend flat and whispering, "James...no...Jem..." He wasn't even quite clear himself what he was saying; everything was a blur...a blur of pain, and unreality. Every jolt that went through Will's palms sent a fresh wave of incapacitating panic through him, and he had to struggle to keep from running, from tearing away from the pain. That was what he always did. When he couldn't bear the pain, he ran.

But not now. This was Jem. He couldn't leave Jem...his brother, his best friend. He couldn't...he couldn't...

He couldn't let him die alone.

Jem's convulsions had ceased to a kind of shivering, and blood was trickling out of his open mouth in a steady stream of red, staining his clothes and drying in his silver hair when Will tried to wipe it away.

Will pressed his palm to Jem's forehead, the heat burning his fingers, the fever rising off his parabati like mist. "James," He choked, tousling his friend's hair, the silver strands stiff and sticky with blood, "james...please...please..."

Jem's shivering stopped.

Will pulled away from his friend and stared as Jem drew in a long, ragged breath. "Jem?" his voice was so quiet he doubted his friend could even here him, but for some reason, he couldn't bring his voice above a whisper.

Jem's eyes flickered open, slowly. they were not their usual steady silver, they were brighter, a gleaming, eery white, but not the whitest Will had ever seen them. Jem stared at him for a moment, his lips trembling, chest heaving, cheeks flushed from the fever. It seemed to take him an age to form words, but then in a rush of breath, he whispered, "Will?"

Letting out a shout, Will flung himself at his parabati, holding Jem so tightly that he probably couldn't breathe. Pressing his face into his friend's blood-soaked shirt, Will clung to Jem, clung to his sanity...that he had come so very close to losing...

And a single, salty tear slipped down his cheek.

Jem must have felt it, because he stiffened, and lightly touched Will's chest, signaling for him to get off. 'Are you...are you, crying?" His voice was hoarse and weak from coughing, but behind his rough tones was a hint of the same Jem who could spend hours singing, with a clear strong voice that rivaled his violin music.

A torrent of emotion sweeped through Will and the sobs exploded out of him, tore from his chest.

Jem's shaking fingers gently clasped his own. "Don't cry Will..." He whispered softly, tears running down his own cheeks. "Don't cry..."

Will shook his head and laughed shakily. "oh Jem..."

A weak smile lifted the corner of Jem's mouth and he sighs, his breath rattling into another coughing fit.

Will pulled his parabati into a sitting position, supporting Jem's body with his own.

When his friend could breathe normally again, Will rested his head against Jem's and whispered. "Please don't leave me..." In a tone of voice he hadn't used since he was twelve; the voice of a lost, forgotten child.

Jem only sighed. "you know that it will happen eventually, William." He reached up and gently wiped the tears from his best friend's face, and Will bit his lip, ashamed of his own weakness. He never cried, not once in Jem's waking presence in all their years as parabati, and now here he was, crying like a baby. He should have been angry, and in truth he knew he would be in the morning, but for now he was only happy that Jem has survived another night.

Jem's lips twitched into a sad smile, as though he had read Will's thoughts. "That's why we have to enjoy the little time we have left."


End file.
